


All Good Things in Threes

by miramei



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Let's Go! Pikachu & Let's Go! Eievui | Pokemon: Let's Go Pikachu! & Let's Go Eevee!
Genre: Elaine and Chase are twins, Gen, I don't know how to add the mentioned tag, Red and Blue are mentioned in passing, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24275863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miramei/pseuds/miramei
Summary: Chase and Elaine are six when their father finally secures a coveted position as a researcher in Cinnabar Island’s world-renowned Pokémon Lab. In the span of a few short months, their family is all packed up and on the move to Pallet Town, the sparkling waters and bustling skyscrapers of Vermilion City receding into the background. The change is a shock on the system. And then, blessedly, they meet Trace.[A story about growing up, dreaming big, and finding yourself, whether it be in the wilds of Kanto or within the shadows of your hometown's local battle legends]
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	All Good Things in Threes

**Author's Note:**

> Let's Go Eevee is the cutest Pokémon game that I've ever had the pleasure of playing. I actually started with Diamond, so the only time I ventured into Kanto was when I played SoulSilver. In that regards, I enjoyed LGE as a direct remake of Red/Blue, but it also made it frustrating because I'd have liked a separate story just for Chase/Elaine.
> 
> Trace is the sweetest boy and I will fight anyone who is mean to him. He is a Good Boy with a Good Chu.
> 
> (An alternate title to this as: "Legs Go" because my phone hates spelling things correctly)

Chase and Elaine are six when their father finally secures a coveted position as a researcher in Cinnabar Island’s world-renowned Pokémon Lab. In the span of a few short months, their family is all packed up and on the move to Pallet Town, the sparkling waters and bustling skyscrapers of Vermilion City receding into the background. The change is a shock on the system.

The whole of Pallet Town could probably fit into their old district. There isn’t a single building that goes higher than three stories, except perhaps the famous Professor Oak’s laboratory, but that’s on a hill on the outskirts of town and so probably doesn’t count. Town life seems to revolve around the two circular town squares—the larger of which is cobbled around a fountain, hosting a thrice-weekly market, and the smaller fit to bursting with hedges of bright flowers. A row of terraced houses to the east of the town follow the curve of a babbling stream that winds out and away through the fields towards parts unknown. Only the main streets of the town are paved with sun-bleached stone, worn smooth with years of rain and wear. The rest of the roads are packed dirt that turns to mud in the rain. On sunny days, the rare Diglet can be found wandering the back streets.

There is no bustling port with booming ships’ horns at Pallet Town. Instead, a good hike south reveals a quiet little inlet that opens to the seawaters of Route 21, where a lone lighthouse sits at the furthest point. Cookie cutter fields and flush meadows and chirping woodlands form the rest of the landscape around the town. If you wanted to leave, there was the bus that ran on the hour every hour through Route 1 to Viridian City, or the tiny ferry that ran the two-hour trip down to Cinnabar Island. For the more adventurous, the bus ride could be avoided for a half-day’s trip on foot through Route 1, which made Pallet Town a surprisingly popular weekend getaway for city folks looking for a hike and a stay at one of the bed-and-breakfasts in town. It was easy. No-fuss. Quaint.

But the biggest change, perhaps, is the house. Gone is the 2-bedroom apartment in Vermilion’s harbor district. Chase and Elaine’s mother had fallen in love with a 3-bedroom stucco cottage that’s trimmed in warm timber frames with a newly replaced red-tiled roof. The house is backed to the woodlands and a fair distance away from the square, as far as distances go in town, but there’s a series of streets that serve as a straight shot to the ferry, which is great for their father. And while the house hadn’t been _cheap_ , per se, it had been affordable. They still don’t have a guest bedroom, but this new house allows the twins to graduate from sharing a room and a bunk bed. The front-facing bedroom is slightly larger than its counterpart across the hall, but the other bedroom has an additional corner window with a plush window seat. Nevertheless, the twins squabble for the larger room until Elaine pulls out her trump card. In the split-second reprieve that a quivering lip and watery eyes buys her, she scrambles through the door and lays claim to her new kingdom. Chase sulks all throughout dinner, but what’s done is done.

The next day—their first _official_ day in Pallet Town—Chase is still in a sour mood. Part of it is because he’s a sore loser. But the other part is because the house is darker at night, despite the curtains not being up yet, and there’s a whole new range of sounds bumping along into the night. When they unpack their own things into their new rooms, it’s weird to see Chase’s old-school Pokéball-style alarm clock sitting alone on the bedside table, its usual ceramic Oddish companion at its new home on Elaine’s windowsill.

“It’ll get better, darlings,” says Mom. “This town will feel like home in no time.”

The twins wonder about that. Vermilion City feels like another world at this point, much less another city in the same country. But the lunch that their mother puts down is warm and familiar. Their father’s bookshelves are still crammed with familiar but complex titles. Chase still hurls his alarm clock off the table in an attempt to snooze it (Elaine heard it crash against the door one morning), and Elaine is quickly learning to love the freedom of having an entire room of walls _just_ for her _own_ posters (no more fighting with Chase because they both want that one particular spot next to the door, just above the light switch).

It _could_ be home, they decide, and they keep with that train of thought up until they get lost on their first official foray into town and only manage to return home, hours later, with leaves in their hair and scrapes on their knees and _already_ with a story about running from the spearow.

* * *

There’s a single school in Pallet Town, and it’s a mixed-grades affair of elementary and junior-high students. Senior high school isn’t compulsory in Kanto, but there are a handful of high school students in town that go to school in Viridian City. At the time of the move, the six-week long summer holiday had just started. The twins would be starting first grade at the local school as soon as those six weeks were up. They’ll have to make friends from scratch, coming into the class in the middle of the school year and knowing absolutely no one from kindergarten. It's a glum prospect.

And then, blessedly, they meet Trace.

Here’s how it happens: one day, Chase runs up to his room to grab a forgotten toy, his mother and sister waiting downstairs so that they could all head out. He’s just closed his fingers on the item when a muffled crash sounds from outside, followed by another, and then another, and finally a yell. Cautiously, Chase perches himself on the window seat and peeks into the neighbor’s house, the nearest window a scant three meters away. Trace stands in what remains of his own once-pristine bedroom, belongings scattered all over the place, huffing and puffing and holding a smug rattata in his hands. It takes a while for the other boy to realize that there’s a pair of wary eyes peeking up at him, but when he does, he goes red immediately. When he lifts a hand to awkwardly wave, he forgets that he’s holding Rattata and promptly drops the poor thing. It lands with a screech and must scuttle off, because in the next instance Trace loses his footing, and even Chase winces as he other boy crashes to the floor.

He tears back down the stairs, toy forgotten, grabs Elaine’s hands, and tugs them both over to the neighbor’s house. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach the bell. A pretty lady opens the door, blinking down at the twins in surprise.

“Good afternoon, Auntie,” Chase says politely, “Is the boy upstairs alright?”

“The boy upstairs?” the lady asks, bemused, even as a series of clatters sound from the depths of the house and their own mother catches up with them, apologies falling from her lips. Chase spies first the rattata, then the boy.

“That boy, Auntie,” he says, pointing into the house. Understanding dawns on the lady’s face.

“Oh, that’s Trace. Trace, sweetheart, someone’s come to ask for you.”

Trace slinks over like a sheepish Meowth, hair a mess from his earlier tousle and cheeks still dusted with pink. “Hello,” he says, “I’m Trace.”

“I’m Chase!” Chase chirps back. He raises the hand that he’s got clasped in his sister’s. “And this is Lainey! We’re twins.”

“We just moved in next door,” says Mom. “I meant to come by later with our gift to properly introduce ourselves, but my son took off first.”

“That’s no worries at all,” the pretty lady hastens to assure her. “How kind of your boy to ask after mine.” They exchange other pleasantries that Chase honestly doesn’t care for, locked as he is in a staring contest with Trace. The sound of his name tunes him back into the conversation though, where he finds Trace slipping his feet into shoes and Rattata running circles around his ankles.

“What’s happening?” he whispers into Elaine’s ear, because if he makes it obvious that he wasn’t paying attention Mom will scold him on his manners. Again. His sister rolls her eyes, but obligingly whispers back anyway that they’re going to get ice cream. Predictably, Chase lights up at the mention of the sweet treat.

“Don’t get lost this time,” Mom warns. Trace grins at her and gives a mock salute.

“Don’t worry, Auntie! I know this town like the back of my hand!” He takes off down the street, Rattata nipping at his heels, and that’s really all the encouragement the twins need before they bounce off in hot pursuit.

* * *

Ice cream with Trace quickly turns into fishing with Trace turns into wandering the woodlands with Trace and splashing along the southern beach with Trace. They meet Trace’s older sister, who gives them pieces of crystal-clear candy wrapped in clear foil to get them to leave her alone (nine, apparently, is the age where it was uncool to hang out with your younger brother and his tiny new friends). They spend a rainy afternoon in the tiny town library, jostling each other for the next volume of _Aura Guardian Lucario_. On what seems to be the hottest day of the year, Rattata leads them up the steps to a house where a lady named Daisy Oak lived, who pours them glasses of iced tea while treating Rattata to a massage with the spare change that all three collectively pool from their pockets. They meet some of Trace’s other friends here and there, but everyone seems to be going on holiday, so for the most part it’s just Trace and Chase and Elaine.

Trace is Pallet born-and-raised, like most of the kids in town. Both his parents work in Viridian City. His father used to be a Gym Trainer, and he was the one who caught Rattata for Trace’s sister. She’s kind to it but doesn’t have any particularly strong feelings for Pokémon one way or another. Trace, though, is Pokémon-mad, and he’s the one who first introduces the twins to Pallet Town’s own battle legends.

It’s a disgustingly humid day, so the three of them are sprawled out on the living room floor in the twins’ house, trying to settle on a program to watch. Trace crows in delight when he finally finds something, and the twins look up just in time to see a pale blur of Pidgeot shoot across the screen on a faraway battlefield. “It’s a World Tournament replay,” Trace reads, squinting at the line of script winding along on the bottom of the program. He brightens immediately as the trainer comes into focus. “And that’s Blue! Blue Oak! He was the Champion once, you know! Came right out of Pallet!” The twins didn’t know, but that doesn’t dim Trace’s excitement in the least. If anything, he’s even more insistent on them watching the replay, hands waving wildly in the air.

“And didya know?” he asks later, around mouthfuls of watermelon, “The guy who beat him was also from here! Blue is already really strong, so Red’s gotta be _super_ strong. When I start my journey, I want to start with a Pikachu just like Red did!”

When Elaine thinks of a Pikachu, the only thing that comes to mind is a small, furry, yellow mouse. Hardly intimidating. The Blue on the screen had wielded a team of giants, and even far removed from the actual battle, it was hard to imagine a team that could take his down. In fact, throwing a Pikachu at Blue’s roster seems almost cruel. But then again, the twins know very little about battling. Their father only owns a Magnemite, and its main job is to jumpstart machinery and be a back-up generator.

“It’s true!” Trace insists, when Elaine questions how much power a Pikachu can have. But it’s good-natured ribbing and all in good fun. By the time dinner rolls around and Trace goes home, Elaine’s all but forgotten about overpowered Pikachus.

* * *

Trace’s father manages to dig up an old recording of a Red match.

It’s rare, apparently. The second Pallet battle legend is notoriously camera-shy, or so it goes, and doesn’t have a robust history of exhibition battles after assuming the mantle of Champion. “He disappeared for a while,” Trace’s father says as he’s setting up the player, which frankly sounds absurd. Disappeared? Wherever to? But he just shrugs off their questions, appearing to be just as baffled, and then clicks play.

Red’s team has the final evolutions of two of Kanto’s traditional starters. Elaine recognizes them from one of Chase’s posters. Charizard cuts through the smoke of explosions with ease, and Venasaur stands its ground almost effortlessly as it weathers out a full-frontal assault from the opposing team. And then—then Elaine sees the Pikachu.

It’s not so much the actual Pikachu that she sees first, so much as a streak of bright yellow. Red’s Pikachu is a viciously sparking cannon, exploding across the field. It doesn’t appear to be bothered at all, even as it goes up against a Rhydon, which Elaine knows to be a poor match-up even with her limited knowledge on typing. Trace is cheering the combatants on excitedly, even though he’s years too late and the outcome has long been decided.

And Chase—Chase’s eyes are glued onto the blur of Pikachu. They are bright. They are _hungry_. “I want that,” he says, as the match comes to a conclusion and it’s Pikachu that remains standing on a ruined field, tail held high.

“Mr. Red would never let you have his Pikachu,” is the first thing that comes out of Elaine’s mouth. Chase rolls his eyes and throws a packaged cookie at her head.

“Nah, I want my _own_ Pikachu,” he says, and then, with all the confidence that only a brash six-year-old can have, he leaps to his feet and jabs a finger at the television screen. “It’s going to be _even better_ than Red’s Pikachu!” He swings his arm over to Trace. “It’s going to be better than _yours_ , too!” He grins, gap-toothed and bright.

Trace is stunned into silence and goes a little cross-eyed when Chase’s finger is thrust into his face. But he recovers quickly, barking out a laugh of his own. “Dream on!” he shouts, leaping up and scattering crumbs all over the floor, “As if my Pikachu will lose to yours!”

Elaine thinks they’re both dreaming, to be completely honest. They’re only six, and Red used to be a _Champion_. “I think Mr. Red’s Pikachu will wipe the floor with _both_ of yours,” she sniffs.

“Spoilsport!” Chase hollers, loud enough that Trace’s mother pokes her head into the living room to make sure that no one is dying. “Just you wait and see! I’m going to beat _all_ of Red’s records!”

* * *

Trace is actually a year older than the twins, but his birthday falls just within the cut-off that he’s in the same grade. It is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because they end up being in the same class more often than not as they advance through school. It’s a curse, because despite all appearances, Trace is the first one to get his student permit for handling Pokémon in school, and he’s the first one allowed to apply to roll that permit forward into an official Trainer ID, which means that, by law, he’ll beat Chase to the punch to pick a starter Pokémon.

According to their history textbooks, this whole set-up was due to Red and Team Rocket. When Red started _his_ journey, ten was the age at which you could apply for a Trainer ID. He must have passed on his first try and then took a deferment from school to travel. And then somewhere along the way he had uncovered scheme after scheme set by Team Rocket, like busting a Game Corner in Celadon City that was actually a front for Pokémon smuggling, or stopping an attempted takeover of Silph Co. all the way in Saffron City. Red’s involvement in stopping the Silph Co takeover had then led to several Interpol raids on suspected Rocket hideouts, but the leader was still at large. After he had ascended to Champion at the tender age of eleven, Kanto legislature had tightened aggressively. Compulsory education could no longer be deferred for a Pokémon journey, which led naturally to fifteen being the new minimum Trainer ID age. That entire unit annoyed Chase, because now he no longer had the opportunity to oust Red from his position as youngest Kanto Champion. So much for beating all of Red’s records.

There are four people in Trace’s group when they finally get their letters from Oak Laboratories informing them that they could come choose their starters. The twins beg and plead to go with him, but Mom puts her foot down on that idea. “You two will scuffle with each other when you pick your own Pokémon,” is her reasoning, which isn’t _wrong_. “Let Trace choose his in peace.” She sets them off with a laundry list of errands to keep them occupied around the house, and they huff and they puff but they do it. Eventually, Trace comes running back down the street, grin so wide it threatens to split his face and a shiny new Pokéball in his hand. A Pikachu pops out with a cheerful squeak, and the twins nearly fall over each other to get a closer look at the curious mouse.

True freedom to do the _really cool_ trainer things only comes after graduation. That means they can’t legally catch anything to add to their rosters yet, and if they battle it’s only for fun, with low-stakes wagers if at all for things such as who-treats-who to ice cream. The twins eagerly shadow Trace as they storm the woodlands and cheer as Trace puts his new Pikachu through its paces against the other kids who already have their licenses. At home, Chase becomes insufferable as he waits for their birthday to roll around. He’s already printed out their forms and filled everything in, but he needs the date to roll over so he can submit it. The wait makes him cagey. Sometimes he can’t sleep at night because he’s terrified that Professor Oak isn’t going to have a Pikachu on hand. According to Trace, it had been luck of the draw for a Pikachu to be on the table—normally, he’d have had to go back another day to choose again from the traditional set.

When it’s _finally_ their turn to go to Oak Laboratories, Chase hauls Elaine out of the house before she’s barely had enough time to finish swallowing the last bite of her breakfast. They have an absence notice for school, and Trace walks with them down to the town center before their paths inevitably split. “Don’t forget to come back for afternoon class,” Trace reminds them, because he’s a good boy at heart and he’d promised the twins’ mother that he’d keep them from distraction.

Elaine gives their friend a lop-sided smile. “I’ll try my best, I guess,” she answers back truthfully, nodding at Chase, who’s bouncing in place with impatience and looking irked that she’s putting him on the spot like this. But Trace eventually manages to wrangle a promise that they’ll at least _show up_ , because the absence notice is only for a half-day, and then Elaine is sprinting down the road to keep pace with her brother.

“What d’you think’ll happen if we just skip the entire day?” Chase asks as they start climbing the steps that wind up to the lab.

“Mom will confiscate your starter, hands down,” Elaine shoots back. “She’ll probably train it herself, and it’ll learn to bake and win a blue ribbon at the county fair.”

“Ugh,” Chase mutters, as Elaine snickers into her hands. She nudges him with an elbow.

“I’m pretty sure Mr. Red’s Pikachu never baked a pie before. You’ll still beat him in that regards,” she says slyly. When he moves to smack her on the shoulder, she dodges neatly out of the way, running up the rest of the path with nothing but peals of carefree laughter to signify her arrival.

* * *

Professor Oak’s laboratory is sterile and clean—so long as you didn’t look at the desks of the research assistants—with high vaulted ceilings that really give it a grand feeling. An aid shows them to a little waiting area near the back of the lab, where a girl they recognize from the class next door is already sitting there. She gives them both a severe glare after the aid leaves, having informed them all that the Professor would be with them momentarily. Elaine, instantly put off by the strange greeting, decides that she’s going to leave it be and settles next to Chase on the free bench.

The other girl huffs, arms folding imperiously over her chest. “Just so you know,” she sniffs, “ _I_ am going to be taking Bulbasaur. So don’t you even _think_ about taking it from me.”

“Um,” says Elaine, because first of all that level of hostility was uncalled for, and secondly, Elaine was _also_ kind of partial to Bulbasaur. She certainly wasn’t married to any particularly starter like her brother or Trace had been, but of the three standard starters she had always thought Bulbasaur to be the cutest. It also felt like it would be really relaxing to have a Grass-Type as a partner.

Chase, who up until this point had been fully absorbed in begging the gods for a Pikachu, now turns his gaze sharply to the other girl. “My sister can choose whichever starter she wants,” he hisses, “so you can go ahead and back off with your holier-than-thou attitude.”

She gasps, furious. “Ex _cuse_ _me?”_ she hisses back, equally venomous. “I waited an _extra week_ to get a Bulbasaur!” She leaps to her feet, which means that Chase also jumps up, and some of the assistants are now looking curiously their way. No one’s rushing over to deescalate the situation, so she wonders if they don’t get a lot of other entertainment as they run to and fro at the Professor’s beck and call.

Thankfully, she’s saved from witnessing a fistfight when the door opens and the elderly Professor steps out. “ _Ahem_ ,” he coughs into his fist. Chase gives the other girl one final glare before swinging around to face him. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He glances down at his notebook. “Chase, Elaine—why don’t you two come in now? I have a wonderful selection of Pokémon that are as excited to meet you as I’m sure you are to meet them.”

“But Professor!” the other girl immediately jumps in to whine, “Shouldn’t you let me go first? I wasn’t able to choose a starter when my group was here last week!”

The Professor looks at her, then down at his notebook, then swings his gaze to her again. “Ah, Rebecca, was it? My notes say here that you were offered both a Charmander _and_ a Squirtle, but you turned both down. I do recall telling you that I’d let you try your chances for a Bulbasaur this week _only_ if no one in the scheduled group selected it first.” He gestures to the twins. “As it so happens, this week we were only supposed to see Chase and Elaine, so they will have first choice, of course.”

Rebecca looks like she’s about to cry. Chase gives her a smug look as the Professor leads them into the back room. “You two are lucky,” the Professor tells them. On the table that he leads them to, there are five Pokéballs, rather than the usual three. A simple little placard is in front of each, listing type and level. “You’re the last group of this year’s batch, so I have the pleasure of offering two additional options to you.” Chase’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he edges towards the ball marked simply as: _“Electric; Lvl 5.”_ Elaine grins and nudges him forward the rest of the way.

For all his bravado and impatience in the weeks and months leading up to this day, Chase is hesitant as he palms the ball. He runs his thumb lightly along the grooves of the ball before he finally commits, pressing down on the release button. A flash of light, and then a roly-poly Pikachu sits on the table, blinking at its surroundings. It lights up when it sees Chase, ears and tail perking immediately.

“Oh, wow,” Chase breathes out, letting the Pikachu sniff at his hand and then rub a cheek cautiously against his palm. Chase shivers as soft electric shocks zip through him. It’s enough to cause the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. “Professor, I’ve always wanted a Pikachu.” He sounds overwhelmed.

“You’re not the only boy who’s said that to me this year,” the Professor says kindly. “Trace, I believe his name was? It just so happened that we were caring for a Pikachu at the lab that took a real shine to him, and it looked like the Pikachu would be in good hands, so of course we let him have it when he asked.”

“That was a good decision, Professor,” Elaine says honestly, “Trace and Pikachu get along really well.”

When the Professor smiles, his eyes are nearly lost in laugh lines. “Really, now?” he asks. “I’m glad to hear that, indeed. Now, my dear. Which one have _you_ been thinking of?” At her hesitation, he rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Take your time, my dear. This will be your first ever Pokémon partner; it never hurts to be patient.”

“Yessir,” Elaine says dutifully, and shuffles closer to the table. She lingers on _“Grass; Lvl 5.”_ Some petty part of her really does want to pick it, because she does like it the most and it would be nice to rub it in Rebecca’s face. But just as she’s reaching for it, the ball labeled _“Normal; Lvl 5”_ starts shaking, a short insistent little rattle in its holder that makes her pause.

“Professor,” she says, “what’s in that Pokéball?”

“Why don’t you open it and see for yourself?” the kindly Professor asks. A glance at Chase gets her an encouraging nod, and her brother’s new Pikachu wags its tail in interest. She takes a deep breath, and then grabs the ball.

The thing that pops out is the cutest and fluffiest creature that she’s ever laid eyes on. Its body is toffee-brown like her favorite chocolates. Its ruff is fluffed up and a pale cream, and the creamy tip of its tail waves enticingly back and forth. Four little paws are tucked neatly underneath its body. Long ears swivel around before they perk, trained on her. A set of sharp little teeth flashes in its tiny pink mouth when it yips at her.

“This is an Eevee,” Professor Oak tells her. “It is a very rare Pokémon in Kanto, most famous for its adaptability to different environments. This adaptability manifests in its varied evolutionary branch, making it a Pokémon that will surely grow alongside its trainer. There are currently eight proposed evolutions of Eevee, although I’m afraid only three are easily found in Kanto.” He scratches underneath the Eevee’s chin, receiving a happy purr for his efforts. “Would you like to pet it?”

“Yes, please,” Elaine says, immediately won over by all the fluff. Her hand sinks down into downy fur, and the Eevee trills happily. It even _rolls over_ to give her better access for belly rubs. Elaine is instantly charmed.

She glances at the Bulbasaur’s ball. Part of her still wants to be petty for contrary’s sake. But the other part of her wonders if that’s fair. Rebecca clearly really loved Bulbasaur, even if she had a terrible way of showing it. Maybe it would be better for Elaine to take it slow with an Eevee, to see if maybe she was right that a Grass-type was right for her (she hopes one of those evolutions is for a Grass-type, at least). Or maybe she’d catch her _own_ Bulbasaur later; get the best of both worlds. She rubs at Eevee’s soft head and startles only slightly when a wet tongue laps at her hand.

“Vui-vui,” Eevee says, rubbing happily against her hand, then nipping affectionately at her thumb. Elaine can feel her heart melting. That was just unfair.

“Professor, I’ve decided,” she says, lifting up Eevee so it dangles from her hands, tail wagging the entire time. “I’m going to go with Eevee.”

“An excellent choice, my dear,” says the Professor, but Elaine doesn’t hear him. She’s too busy grinning at her chirping new partner. Holding it this close to her, she can see her reflection in its big bright eyes. It squirms a bit in her hold in its attempt to lick her nose. The giggle bubbles out of her unbidden.

“I’m glad I wasn’t hung up over getting a Pikachu,” she confesses, even though Chase and the Professor can both hear her clearly. “I’ve decided. You’re clearly the better choice.”

“Hey!” Chase protests, but she just laughs, letting Eevee crawl over her shoulders. Its fur tickles her cheeks and threatens to make her sneeze, but she could get used to this new weight on her head, and when it slaps a little paw down on her hand in some sort of a high-five, she feels like she’s ready to burst.

Professor Oak updates their files and prints out new Trainer IDs for them. Their yearbook pictures stare out at them from the little plastic card, along with tiny images of their newly selected starters. They’re also both handed a little red pocket-book. “Your forms stated that you’re both interested in travelling the region. This item is a perk for all trainers leaving our town. It’s a Pokédex, recently upgraded with the latest data on native Kantonian species. I think you’ll both find it helpful on your journeys.”

He smiles wide and clasps them both on the shoulders. “Congratulations,” he says warmly. “Your very own Pokémon legends are about to unfold! Beyond our town, you’ll find that a whole world of dreams and adventure with Pokémon awaits.”

He winks at them. “Just make sure to properly graduate first.”

Chase groans at the reminder, but Elaine grins. “Don’t worry, Professor!” she chirps, tugging at her brother’s hand as they take their leave. “I’ll make sure he studies hard. Wouldn’t want him to be held back at this crucial time.”

In the waiting area, Elaine fixes Rebecca with a frown. Eevee’s tail twitches against her nape. “I could have taken Bulbasaur, you know,” she says. “I think you should remember that clearly, before you start on your own journey or whatever.” Eevee chatters a string of agreement from the top of her head. When Elaine leaves the lab, she doesn’t spare the other girl another glance.

* * *

Final exam period is exhausting.

The twins hit the books, but it’s _hard_ , because they keep getting distracted with their new Pokémon. They genuinely don’t understand how Trace can still dive into his textbooks and power through his problem sets, considering that he has _both_ Rattata and his Pikachu in the house, frequently both scampering about in his room. Trace never comes up with a satisfactory answer for them, and in the end the twins resort to extreme measures: they give their starters to Mom to watch for the specific studying hour they block each day. Their mother is, understandably, shocked.

“I have to graduate,” Chase says seriously, stuffing rice into his face while also trying to keep his Pikachu away from his soup. “If I fail here then all this waiting will have been for nothing. So I _really_ need to focus— _oi!_ ” Pikachu succeeds in stealing an entire half of his croquette, scampering hurriedly away to scarf down the stolen treat. The rodent maintains belligerent eye contact even as Chase springs up from his seat with a clatter of his utensils. He looks like he’s going to start spouting off some of the words that Trace’s older sister accidentally taught them that one time they crashed her date with her high school beau, but a last-minute glance at their mother makes him shut his mouth with an audible click.

He sits back down with a glare at Elaine’s Eevee, who had eaten her own dinner properly out of her own bowl and was now content to just curl up in Elaine’s lap. Elaine smirks smugly in response to his sullen glare. Mom sighs.

“If you think it’s necessary, then it’s fine, of course,” she says. “I can’t say no to the company of these two little cuties.” Eevee pops her head up over the edge of the table to trill happily. Pikachu looks smug as it cleans crumbs from its whiskers. Chase looks astounded.

“He just stole my croquette!”

“Maybe you should have defended it better,” Elaine snipes back. His chopsticks immediately come invading onto her plate, and the scuffle is bad enough that Eevee hops off her lap to seek shelter elsewhere. Mom watches them bicker for a while with a fond smile before she eventually gets up to clear the table.

They had thought that the last few weeks of school would have passed by tortuously slowly, but it was the exact opposite. Between lectures and study groups and the little bits of time stolen in the afternoon to work on practical assessments, time flies like a Dragonite. Before they know it, they’re sitting for the last of their exams, and then they crawl their way over to the local ice cream parlor to bemoan their answers. Chase stares long and hard at the chocolate swirls in his cup. Trace looks rather green as he mutters about his history essay. Elaine wants to fall into bed and take a nap for the next three days.

To stave off the nerves as they spend the last week waiting for their grades, they battle. Both Trace and Chase are naturals at it; Trace has a certain flair for drawing people into his matches, and Chase is quick at thinking on his feet such that he almost always seems to be able to pull off some sort of last-minute strategy. They quickly overpower the other kids their age, reigning supreme with their Pikachus both sparking excitedly. Elaine likes watching them battle a lot.

That’s not to say that she’s too shabby herself. She’s the only kid their year with an Eevee, which already gives her an advantage, and to top it all off her Eevee moves with a precise sort of grace. She racks up more losses and draws than Trace or Chase do, but it’s fun either way, and the only battle she cared to win was the one where they wagered massages at Daisy Oak’s. Properly motivated, Elaine had absolutely _thrashed_ her classmate, and then had felt bad enough about it that she’d bought them both lemonades while the other treated their Pokémon to the massages as promised.

Their parents throw a party when the final grades come out and everyone passes. Chase’s Pikachu steals bites of cake right from his fork, while Eevee squeaks for the strawberries and begs cutely until she succeeds in robbing a guest blind. Both of Trace’s shoulders are occupied by a mouse—Pikachu on one and Rattata on another—and as the evening wears on they watched as he sagged under both their combined weight and his own exhaustion. At graduation, he’s sobbing despite his best efforts to compose himself to receive his diploma, fending off curious little paws when Pikachu bats at the flower pinned to his lapel. Chase doesn’t cry when he receives his, although his eyes are suspiciously bright. Elaine covers her own sniffle with a well-timed sneeze as Eevee flicks an ear right under her nose.

A good handful of the kids in their grade had received their starter Pokémon and Trainers IDs that year, but asides from the twins and Trace, only two other kids are opting to travel. Everyone else they knew was going onwards to a high school in Viridian City, with the odd few who tested into better schools with dorm systems. Chase wants to leave immediately after graduation, feet already itching for an adventure, but their mother balks, and she eventually talks him down to going on one last family vacation before he bursts out into the great unknown. She wants a destination vacation, but Alola is out of budget after outfitting both twins for their upcoming journeys, so they go to Vermillion City instead, where their father surprises them with tickets on the S.S. Aqua to Olivine City. They spend two days in the Johtonian port city sampling the local cuisine, visiting Glitter Lighthouse, and catching matches at the Battle Tower. The twins argue over what kind of postcard they ought to send Trace, before finally settling on a picturesque one of the lighthouse that’s not too dark and foreboding. Then they argue some more when Chase writes too much, too big, and Elaine has to cram her own message underneath his untidy scrawl. Trace is waiting for them back in Pallet Town, grin on his face and souvenirs from Fuschia City in hand.

“I guess I can’t keep you here forever,” Mom says eventually, eyes very bright as she straightens out the collar of Chase’s jacket and tucks a stray lock of Elaine’s hair behind her ear. “Fifteen already. I wish I could keep you here forever, but I suppose all boys leave home someday, and all girls dream of travel.” She gives each of them a crushing hug. Their father gives them each a pat on the shoulder, and their partner Pokémon a scratch under the chin.

“Take care of them,” he says to the two creatures, both of which puff up their chests in answer. His expression softens as he gently entangles them from their mother. “Go on now. Better not keep Trace waiting. Call home whenever you can!”

“You can come home anytime if you’re tired,” Mom says, and then smiles as she pushes them gently down the path leading out of town. “Remember, I’ll always be cheering for you! Don’t ever give up!”

Both Chase and Elaine nod firmly, straightening up and waving goodbye. Then, together, they turn and run down the path to where Trace is waiting for them at the edge of the tall grass. All three grin at each other before they each pull out an empty Pokéball. Wild Rattata scamper through the bushes at their feet. A small flock of Pidgey flutter overhead. Trace spots an Oddish marching happily along through a break in the grass ahead, and Elaine swears she sees what looks like a vine from a Bulbasaur poking out of the grass deeper in the Viridian countryside.

“Eh-vuivui!” Eevee chirps happily from atop her head, and the little Pokémon squeaks in excitement as she nods.

“Let’s go!” she decides, and then takes a running leap into the tall grass, her twin brother and her childhood friend both hot on her heels.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about all the cuties in Pokémon please I am begging.


End file.
